2013 has been a massive year of edits.

I am not talking only of the literary kind, although I’ve done my fair share of those (and in spite of some of these long and rambling bloggages, you should see what ends up on the cutting room floor before these posts are published.  You could be subjected to much worse. Count your blessings that I know where that delete key is located).

So, no, it’s not only wordy-type editing that I am referring to. Instead, I am talking about life and the revising thereof.

For those faithful readers who have followed the sales of our house and apartment and our subsequent move to our new tiny world at Olympic Village, you’ll know what’s coming…yup, I’m back on that theme otherwise known as; The Theme That Would Not Die. Yes, we are talking about organizing, editing, downsizing, curating, culling, mulling and generally schlepping shit to and fro on a rather epic level.

This weekend I went back to Sechelt to do the final clear out of our former kitchen and other miscellaneous stuff. You might remember we sold the place in July…ah yes, there’s that. But due to rather fortuitous and extenuating circumstances, we have until this coming weekend to finally clear everything out.

I arrived home last night with another vehicle filled with duplicates from that other life. Vinegar, bleach, photo albums, coffee grinder, rice cooker, cloth shopping bags, cans of Comet, photo albums, hair clips, cowboy boots, hiking poles, photo albums, a broom, some blankets, a whisk, oh man…the list of random minutiae was silly and the boxes were piled high.

Did I mention the photo albums?

Sillier still, was the effort required to handle each item so it could be assimilated, amalgamated and incorporated into our world.

In many ways, living small is very freeing. Take, for instance, vacuuming (please!). With hardly any floor footage, clean up is fast and easy. It all feels very manageable. Snippy snappy and all that.  Too, with a smaller space and less furniture, I feel freed from having to take care of too many things.

But in other ways, living small is an endless battle. There is nowhere to randomly drop something and deal with it later. If it’s not dealt with right away, I am quite likely to break my neck.

There is no later in this plan. There is only now.

When we come home, we have to immediately hang our keys and coat and put away our shoes. There is no kicking them off at the door, no extra chair to toss the coat upon. It is, quite literally, a deal-with-it-or-die situation. (Yes, I am overdramatizing. It is called literary license. I know we won’t exactly die). But still, the room will be subsumed with crap if we do not immediately put everything in its correct place.

The stackable laundry is in a closet. Nothing can be hidden. Wash it. Dry it. Fold it. Hang it. If we don’t deal with it asap, we will be sleeping under a pile of clean clothes. This might smell nice, but could result with waking up with one’s gonsh worn as a toque…not an appealing visual at the best of times.

But. Every time I think that I’m truly done with the processing and the editing…something else comes up.

Today, I finally wrapped my brain around it. I simply need to accept that it will never be done. Just like life, there is constant flow and change. Every moment, I have to decide what stays, what goes, what I believe, what I want, what to do or not to do.

Let me put this more succinctly: Every day, I have to deal with my shit.

I can get all dramatic about it or I can simply show up, decide what is necessary in my life and, more importantly, what is not, and then get the job done. Dealt with like that, my life, like our apartment, can feel manageable and unburdened.  The alternative is not pretty (see aforementioned gonsh reference).

I am living a curated life, and just like managing our apartment, there is no later in this plan.

There is only now.